Dream When it's not Safe to Feel
by EnchiladaDan
Summary: Team Free Will is back in the bunker, and Dean's "family" is finally back together again. After a particularly insightful dream, Cas and Dean sit down to talk, but it turns into something more. Explicit Content. Part 1 of the "Because We're Family" series.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is a S9 divergence: assume the "angels falling" arc still happened, but Sam is not injured from the trials, and Dean never brought Crowley back to the Men of Letters dungeon. This story loosely follows canon until the end of 9X03, except that with Sam healthy Castiel is free to stay in the bunker. I hope this will be part of a series, although this can be read as a stand-alone.

Disclaimers: Supernatural is owned by Kripke, et al. and any brand mentioned is a registered trademark. Chapter title is a song title by Bobby Darin.

**Dream Lover**

The Winchesters had finally found Cas. He was back in the Men of Letters bunker - he was _safe_. Dean finally felt like he could breathe for the first time since the angels fell.

"G'night, Sammy." Dean called over his shoulder as his not-so-little brother made his way towards his own room down the hall.

"Night, Dean," he replied, right before he shut the door to his room.

He turned toward his door, and said, "Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean," Castiel replied from the doorway next to his. Dean quickly made his way to his bed, and crawled in. Yeah, things were _finally_ starting to get back to normal. He fell asleep within minutes.

"So this is a dream, right?"

"Yes."

"That explains why we're just hanging out in our underwear, I guess. At least we're in the bunker, instead of Ms. Stevenson's algebra class," he mused. He looked over at the desk with a box of vintage porn on top, and at the memory-foam bed directly to their right. This was _his_ room, he realized.

His lips quirked into a smile as he stood there a moment, thinking. "So I could do anything I wanted? Like … eat a whole pie, and then have a threesome? Or FLY?"

"Yes, Dean."

He looked positively giddy at the idea, and Castiel added, "Or this." In one swift motion, he bridged the distance between the two and pressed his lips to Dean's gently. Dean pulled away quickly, and stared at him wide-eyed.

"What the hell?" He asked confused, although his tone indicated no hint of anger.

"I believe dream-me is acting upon our mutual physical attraction," Cas responded, eyes travelling down his face until they came to rest at his lips. He licked his own lips and dove in again, this time more successfully catching the hunter's mouth with his own. Briefly, Dean thought about protesting but he simply shrugged, his raised eyebrows falling back down. Bringing his hand to Castiel's stubbled jaw, he pressed back against the wind-burned pout. He opened his mouth wider, his tongue worrying at the seam of the brunette's lips as he leaned in closer. As the lips parted, his tongue darted inside and in response Cas ran his hand along Dean's hip, his hand slowly making its way inward.

At this, Dean pulled back, joking, "A little aggressive, don't you think?"

Cas squinted at him: "Although it is true that waking-me would be timid, this version is channeling my eagerness, rather than inexperience."

Dean reminded himself this was a dream, and cleared his throat: "Right, then. Okay."

He closed his eyes and felt lips upon his again shortly. The hand which had never left his hip turned inward, the slim fingers brushing over soft cotton. A stubbled cheek brushed against his own, his tongue now lapping at the one invading his mouth. As the kisses became more impassioned, he felt the sudden warmth of Cas palming his slowly-hardening cock, and his own hand dropped from his jaw to Cas' chest. He felt the quick beat of his heart and emboldened further, dragging his fingers down the leanly-muscled torso. In between kisses, he could hear the shallow, quick breath of the other. He paused just above the waistband of Cas' boxers, rolling his hips against the hand on his groin. His cock, now completely hard, strained against his button-fly; his breath came out in small shudders.

He shoved his hand down, grabbing Castiel and stroking. Cas' low rumble of a voice transformed into something more like a growl, and he bucked his hips against Dean, feeling the minute tightening of the fingers around his member.

Dean's other arm pulled Cas in tight, backing up until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He tightly gripped Cas, who (with clumsy fingers) still struggled to unbutton his fly as they fell. He turned so they were on their sides, and moving his hand up to the linen waistband, Dean grabbed the fabric hugging Castiel's hips and began to ease it down. They broke away from the embrace to undress each other, boxers quickly on the floor as flailing legs sought to right themselves on the soft bed. In the dim light of the room, they eyed each other hungrily.

Considering the bunker was underground, the walls were thick concrete and, unlike some of the shadier places he'd been pressed to bed others in, the door had a deadbolt. Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as it dawned on him; this would be the first sexual encounter he'd had in a long time where he didn't have to fear interruption. His lips quirked into a sly smirk and he dove at Castiel, his fingers grabbing purchase anywhere they could as he climbed onto the slimmer brunette. Braced on his elbows, Dean's lips met his neck, and he could hear Cas' breath hitch as he slowly rolled his hips against him. Cas rutted back against him, his hands quickly making their way down Dean's freckled back.

Dean ran a hand through the messy brown hair, giving it an experimental tug to further bare Cas' throat to his lips, and he heard the loud shudder Cas gave in response. He pressed a palm firmly onto Dean's hip, urging him to grind harder. With his other hand, he grabbed his butt, and Dean gave a small start. Cas' voice, so low it was little more than vibration at this point, asked, "Do you like that?"

Dean nuzzled against his neck, mouthing an "mm-hmm" in response, and Cas reached down again, grabbing at his right cheek. He felt his cock give an appreciative twitch, and a moan escaped the hunter's lips.

Urged on, Cas wet his lips and lifted his head, catching the junction of Dean's neck to his shoulder with his teeth. Dean made a slow hissing sound, the sucking and biting lavishing his skin with a dark red mark. He licked and kissed the over-sensitive spot gently before easing off, and Dean rolled off of him, rubbing the spot carefully with his fingers. He brought them in front of his face and remarked, "It's fine as long as you don't draw blood." He momentarily thought about his last vampire run-in, but pushed it from his mind.

His breath still had a hint of breathlessness to it, as he continued, "But if this keeps up, it's gonna be over before we get to the really fun stuff."

Cas leaned forward into a sitting position, and asked seriously, "Did you want to stop?"

He looked down for a second, his eyes flashing lighter momentarily, a feeling Cas couldn't place moving across them. Then Dean set his jaw, cleared his throat, and responded, "Just … don't touch me for a minute. Let me touch you instead."

Dean moved over him again, his eyes gazing down the line of Cas' body before worshipping his lips with kisses. As he moved lower, lips slick with spit met his nipples, tonguing one and then the other. Cas gave a thin gasp and as Dean's strong hands pushed Cas' thighs further apart, he kissed down Cas' stomach, his eyes never leaving the tanned skin. Finally he looked up, warning, "Whatever you do, don't move your hips."

As if to illustrate his point, he held Cas' hip down with one hand, the other around the base of his cock. His eyes flicked away, as he added, "And uh … don't say anything unless I'm hurting you, or unless you're gonna come."

He just licked his lips, Cas' fingers running through Dean's hair gently. He felt those unnerving blue eyes on him, a small blush creeping across his cheeks as his lips wrapped around Cas' cock. He moved his tongue around the shaft, dipping farther down, and he heard a low rumble playing on Castiel's lips, the breath punched out of his lungs by the sensation.

Cas fought to keep still, wanting desperately to thrust upward. Dean made his way down further, swallowing when he felt head of Cas' cock rub the back of his throat. Cas was propped up on his elbows, his chest shallowly rising and falling as he watched the blonde take him further into his mouth. He groaned as Dean's tongue made its way up to his frenelum. The muscles in his thigh twitched underneath Dean's hand, the strain of staying still almost too much to bear.

Leaning back on his haunches to balance himself, he moved his other hand to Cas' balls and pulled gently. Castiel broke his near-silence with a heavy moan and shouted, "Dean!"

There was an edge of panic to his voice, and as Dean surfaced, climbing up Cas' body, he felt the heat of cum on his stomach. Cas twitched, his cock pulsing, wrecked repetitions of "_Dean!_" spilling from his lips. Stroking his cock to bring him to the end of his orgasm, Dean kissed the underside of his scruffy chin; Cas' back arched up, his head pressed hard into the pillow, his eyelids clenched tight as his lips trembled, words now lost to desperate groans.

His hands releasing the handfuls of sheet he'd been holding, Cas collapsed against the bed, breathing hard. Dean moved, looking for something to wipe them up with, but when he turned back to Cas they were both clean. As he opened his eyes, his pupils still blown, he focused on Dean, and a slow smile crept over his face.

Dean lay back against the bed, his gaze still on those wide blue eyes. If this was anything like his usual wet dreams, he thought bitterly, it would end here. He'd wake up in his bed, gasping and drenched in sweat. Then he'd realize, (as he did at least half the time) that he was still achingly hard, and would rush to the shower as quietly as he could, to jerk off under the hot water.

He recalled his last "shower," although they all seemed to bleed together: As the shoddy hotel showerhead sprayed, he would lean his forearm against the cold tile wall; back to the water with his head bowed, rivulets running down his temples as his hand pumped; he'd keep his teeth clenched tight, his jaw quivering as he fucked his fist roughly; at the last second, his head would snap up, his eyes going wide and biting his other fist as he came to stifle his moans; he'd feel it pump out of him, his hand slowing. His breath would nearly stop as he listened: silence led to relief washing over him and he'd clean up quickly, and dry himself. If Dean was good at it, he'd be in and out of the bathroom in fifteen minutes, Sam none the wiser.

But, he realized, things were different now. He had his own room in the bunker; he could stay in bed and he'd be able to moan without fear of being heard. This thought comforted him, and he turned his attention back toward Cas.

His long silence was misinterpreted, as Cas asked, "Dean? Did you want this dream to be over?"

He regarded the former-angel for a moment, before replying, "No, Cas. I wanna stay here even though …" He trailed off, his eyes anywhere but Cas'.

"Even though what, Dean?" Cas raised an eyebrow, but his expression was soft.

Dean turned his back on Cas feeling more vulnerable in his psyche, before answering, "Even though the longer this dream goes on, the harder it's gonna be when I wake up."

Cas moved closer. "You're referring to a dream's ability to realize desires," he answered, less a question than a statement. He suddenly shifted position, leaning back against the headboard, and stared at Dean confusedly. "You think … I won't _want_ you?" Cas' voice broke, and he swallowed thickly, squinting.

Dean's body tensed visibly as the other man grabbed his arm, attempting to move him. The strain on his voice now gone, with a note of authority he ordered, "Dean, look at me."

He turned over onto his back, but refused to meet Cas' searching gaze. In a whisper so thin he had to strain his ears to hear it, Dean explained, "This… this dream is fine, _because_ it's not real. But what IS real," he gestured to the door as if it was the waking world, "out there, I hurt people. I … break _everything_ I touch." By this time, Dean's eyes had met his, and a single tear rolled down his left cheek.

Cas felt the conviction of the hunter's words in his heart, and it pained him in a familiar way. As he blinked to clear his eyes, Cas' hand moved up to wipe away the wet spot on his cheek, and he replied sadly: "Dean, you cannot break me."

Unsteady green eyes met calm blue ones as he continued, "The truth is, I am already broken, and it is something I did to myself."

His smirked in uncomfortable contrition as he explained, "You cannot hurt me, for I am already hurt. And although my waking self may never tell you, I need you, just as you need me."

With that Cas leaned down, meeting the stunned hunter's lips. Dean was still for a few moments, before he relaxed against him. He kissed back fervently, blinking back the tears in his eyes, as Cas moved to cover Dean's body with his own. Cas' warm skin felt soothing against him, and his cock slowly began to perk back up in interest. As Dean rutted against him, Cas implored, "What do you need, Dean?"

The question was asked with such sincerity that he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "I want to fuck you." Under the former-angel's gaze, he felt himself blushing at his own candor.

Running his tongue along his pouty lips unconsciously, he answered simply, "All right."

He now laid stock still, as if sure Cas could feel his heart beating out of his chest. Nearly sputtering, he asked, "_Seriously?_ You're going to let me?"

Cas looked at him curiously, as if the question didn't make sense. "Everything I have is yours, Dean."

Dean leaned into him, and pressed their lips together. His hands made their way to Cas' hips, and pulled him in closer. He moved his hands over Cas' body, barely blinking as he watched the small expressions of pleasure that crossed Cas' face. He was afraid if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up in his own bed again.

He heard a soft sound to his right, and noticed a bottle of lube on the nightstand. Cas' gaze followed his, and he spoke: "I wonder what else would appear if we wished for it?"

Dean thought for a second, and suddenly, a mirror materialized on the ceiling. "Awesome," he whispered, and Cas brought him in for another kiss. Dean's hand moved from Cas' hip down his back, cupping his buttock. He squeezed and kneaded the flesh before breaking away from the kiss. "Cas, I'm gonna need you to change positions."

His eyes flickered open and he looked up at Dean. "How would you like me?"

Dean went slack-jawed at that for a second, before he recovered himself and cleared his throat. "You should probably be on your hands and knees."

After reaching for the bottle of lube, Dean sidled up behind him. He caressed Cas' back, as his other hand opened the bottle. Slicking up two fingers on the other hand, he capped the bottle and threw it on the bed. As he ran the slicked hand along the cleft of his ass, he warned, "I'll try my best, but I've never done this before."

His fingers found the puckered entrance, and he stroked against it, willing Cas to relax. He reached for the lube again then dripped more on, and as his hand made its way back into position, he said, "I need you to relax, Cas."

Cas took a deep breath in, and Dean was able to push a finger inside. Cas shifted down onto his elbows and Dean began to move it in and out, stroking the muscles outside the entire time. A few minutes passed like this, and when he felt relaxed, he slipped another finger in. He made a groan at this, and Dean tried to soothe him, bending over to kiss along his back. Cas' shoulders unbunched and Dean soon found himself unimpeded. As the pads of his fingers groped along the walls of his passage, he soon found a raised area. When his fingers merely brushed over it, Cas gave a breathy moan. More direct pressure, however, caused Cas to cry out in pain. He ran his other hand along Cas' back, murmuring, "Shh, it's okay … I'm sorry Cas."

Cas struggled for a moment, but soon regained normal breaths. He slowly unclenched, and Dean gently stroked the area. Tears welled in his eyes from before; Cas squeezed them together tightly as another moan erupted from his throat. Dean noticed Cas' hardening cock, and reached over to give it a stroke, to ease some of his discomfort. As he continued his ministrations, he soon found Cas had relaxed to the point where Dean's fingers sunk in without resistance. "Cas, you okay?"

Voice thick with lust, Castiel answered, "I feel good, Dean. I - I think I'm ready for penetration."

Dean's hand blindly groped the sheets for the bottle of lube. He pushed more lube inside of Cas, before withdrawing his fingers. Cas suddenly felt an odd sensation at the loss, as Dean coated his own cock. Slicked in so much lube he was practically dripping, Dean gripped the base of his cock with one hand, and parted Cas' cheeks with the other. The blunt head made contact with Cas' entrance and he drew a shaky breath, the sensation of it so much smoother and warmer than the fingers had been. With one agonizingly slow push, he breached the ring of muscle. As he pushed minutely closer to Cas' backside filling him up entirely, Cas let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Dean stayed his hips, hands resting on him as he asked, "You okay, Cas?"

Dean reached in front of him, and gave his cock a few steady strokes, which Cas shifted into. "Yes," he moaned, and Dean began to move.

He moved slowly at first, giving Cas time to adjust to the feeling. Each low groan he coaxed from his throat made him even harder, which was a dangerous position to be in. Cas was so tight and hot, and every time he shifted, it caught Dean off-guard. He was determined to make this good for Cas, but he'd been on edge for a while. He stopped for a moment, gripping the base of his cock firmly to buy more time. He took a deep breath and bent over Cas, his lips meeting a tan shoulder. He kissed it gently, before latching on with his teeth. He bit gently, careful not to draw blood. As he sucked on the smooth skin, his teeth let off, drawing a needy moan from Cas. His lips and tongue withdrew, and he pulled Cas' jaw towards him to kiss his cheek.

His hand dropped down as he shifted, giving him a few more strokes before adjusting his angle. He leaned back and probed experimentally, until he heard Cas gasp in an unmistakable way; he'd found it again. He brushed the spot lightly a few times, before angling back into his normal rhythm. He felt Cas' muscles relax a little, and he picked up the pace. His attentions to Cas' pleasure calmed him enough to gain control of the situation. He threw his head back as Cas clenched around him, uttering a groan as his wide eyes made contact with the mirror.

He'd completely forgotten it was there. Now he stared, transfixed, as he watched his cock disappear inside Cas' body. The way Cas was squirming from the angle of the mirror caused Dean's whole body to shudder. He angled himself to brush his prostate again, and watched as Cas' head dropped down, panting at the sensation.

"You like that, baby?" The word had slipped out before Dean even knew what he was saying, but Cas didn't seem to mind. In fact, if the way Cas clenched was anything to go by, it was the exact opposite.

"Yes … Dean, _yes_…" Cas spoke his name like a prayer, soft and reverent.

Dean ran his hands up and down his back, caressing his well-muscled rear. As he reached forward again, stroking Cas, small noises issues forth between his murmured pleas: "Yes, like that …"

He hadn't thought it was possible to be more turned on, but Cas' vocal nature did the trick. A few moans left his lips, and he started to babble incoherently: "_Fuck_ … so good, Cas."

Then he panted out, "I - I'm getting close…"

He gave Cas' ass an experimental swat, and his breath caught in his throat. It resumed with a shudder and Dean slowly broke into a grin. "Like that?" he asked, giving a small slap to the other cheek.

Cas just keened back into it, uttering a low groan. As his hand rubbed small, soothing circles on the reddened skin he leaned forward, catching Cas' waist with his other arm. His other arm wrapped around him as he purred in his ear, "You gonna cum for me, baby?"

He could feel his balls drawing up tight as he turned his head back to Dean, breathing out a "_Yes_."

As Dean leaned back, he gave his ass a final slap before he focused on Cas' prostate again. He sped up, his hips pounding as he reached forward. Tightening his fingers in Cas' hair, he tugged slightly, and was rewarded with a gasp from the man below him. His grip loosened uncertainly, but Cas growled, "Do it again."

Cas' breathing deepened, his back rising and falling dramatically with each breath. Dean tugged the short brown hair again, and growled, "Come on Cas, cum for me."

With a shudder, it was all over: his muscles trembled, threatening to give out on him; his hips jerked forward, pleasure snaking through his core as he moaned out, _"Dean! Yes, Dean…"_

He leaned into him, his hand going to Cas' twitching cock, bringing him to the end of his orgasm as cum striped the sheets. He'd held on so long, but couldn't any longer.

"Oh, Cas," he murmured, the first wave of pleasure hitting him.

Cas clenched tight as heat pumped into him. Dean's moans became ragged, increasing in volume until he was nearly shouting, _"Fuck, Cas!"_

His hips slowly stuttered to a halt, his hands holding Cas' hips tight as his orgasm ebbed. Breath labored, he leaned back to slowly pull out, and then flopped onto the bed on his back. Cas threw part of the blanket over the mess he'd made and flopped down on his stomach, next to Dean.

The two lay there grinning, chests still heaving from excitement. "Dean," Cas began, and the blonde met his gaze, "I think it's time you woke up."

"What? No," he responded, but he could already feel his eyelids getting heavy. "Wanna stay with you…" he murmured.

"Go be with the real me," He heard Cas urge, and his lids fell shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**When I think about you, I touch myself**

Author's note: Chapter title taken from a song by the Divinyls

He woke with a start, eyes snapping open. As he sat up, the shift in position alerted him to an unpleasant sensation. Dean groaned as he looked down, and peeled back his covers. Just then, he heard his door hinge squeak. He snapped his bedside lamp on; eyes squinting towards the door, one hand instinctively went to the pistol under his pillow.

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas stood in the doorway: a ratty T-shirt that once belonged to Sam hung loose on his shoulders, the neckline stretched, and Dean's old flannel pajama pants covered his legs, the drawstring cinched tight over his lean hipbones. He padded into the room in bare feet, and Dean removed his hand from the gun to hastily draw the covers back over himself.

He felt his cheeks grow hot under Cas' piercing gaze, and after his temporary mental malfunction, his mouth was once again able to form words. His voice came out hoarse from sleep and his eyes were wild as he barked, "Get the fuck out of here, Cas!"

Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean's shouts, but made no motion to leave, simply stating, "But you _called_ for me. You called out to me not even ten minutes ago, and I always come when you call."

Clearing his throat, he answered quickly, "I was talking in my sleep. I'm fine. Now _get out_!" Cas nodded but eyed Dean suspiciously, and turned on his heel.

As he watched the door close, he sighed "Fuck", and dug in his nightstand for tissues.

He was in the middle of putting fresh sheets on his bed when he heard a tentative rap on the door. "Cas, go away," he called, dropping the loose sheet to rub the sleep from his eyes. He smoothed his comforter flat, and the knock came again.

"_Dean, it's me_. Can I come in?" Sam sounded sleepy and fairly exasperated.

"Go away Sam, I gotta get back to sleep."

"Dean, it's important."

He sighed; "Fine."

Sam opened the door and strode over to Dean's bed, preparing to sit down; at the last second, he seemed to think better of it, and sat in a chair off to the side. Dean continued to fluff his pillows as Sam bitch-faced him. "Can we make this snappy? Cas woke me up and we gotta get going early."

He smirked at that, and responded, "See, that's the thing. Cas woke you up because apparently, you woke Cas up. You were _calling for him_ in your sleep?"

"So?" Dean avoided his gaze, instead checking the safety on his gun. "I've called out to _you _in my sleep. Big deal."

Sam raised his eyebrows, and let out a laugh. "Not like _this,_ you haven't."

Dean felt his stomach drop, as Sam continued, "See, turns out Cas is a _really_ light sleeper. So he heard practically everything you said. And before you ask, no, I won't switch rooms with him. On the off-chance either of us ever brings someone back to 'the house that paranoia built,' I don't want it to be advertised."

He scoffed at his little brother's optimism – what girl in her right mind would come back to a place that was equal parts hobbit hole and dungeon?

"Awhile ago I found the blueprints to this place, and our rooms were originally _one_ room – so the walls that separate our rooms from Cas' are thinner than everywhere else. So from his room, he can hear everything that goes on in either of ours. Long story short, I don't want an explanation, but you owe Cas one. He burst into my room, asking why you were mad at him. And, uh … he told me what he heard." Sam looked away and cleared his throat.

Dean was blushing furiously now, and Sam stood up from the chair. "Just make him understand the _kind_ of dream you were having, or I don't know, develop some kind of signaling system with him. Because I don't want Cas to tell me anything like that EVER again."

"Dude's got boundary issues," he agreed his voice slightly higher from embarrassment.

Sam mumbled "G'night" and ducked under the doorway as he left, shaking his head and sighing.

Dean realized he'd have to sort this out before he would have any chance of sleep, and poked his head into Cas' room. In the dim light of his bedside lamp, Cas sat cross-legged on the bed, staring down at his hands. He cleared his throat, and Cas looked up. "Come on, I need to talk to you."

He motioned for him to follow, and they ended up sitting down on Dean's bed. "Sorry about before – you scared me. I didn't expect you to come into my room."

Cas squinted at him, his gaze intense as he responded, "But you called for me…"

"Yeah, 'bout that. I was having a dream, Cas. I was talking to the Cas in my dream, not calling out to you."

He gave a slow nod, and asked, "But what do 'I'm getting close', calling me 'baby' and 'come on Cas, cum for me' mean?"

Cas tried to meet Dean's eyes, but he'd focused intently at a spot on the carpet in front of him. "Then there was a lot of groaning and you said my name again, which is why I thought you needed me."

Wow, he really _had _heard the whole thing. Dean could feel his ears getting hot, he was blushing so badly. "I uh …" He met Cas' eyes briefly, his smile faltering as soon as he did, and he continued, "I'm gonna level with you, Cas. I was dreaming about sex."

Cas cocked his head to the side slightly, which Dean had to admit was funny. Since becoming human, most of Cas' awkward mannerisms had lessened in intensity, although the head tilt still got him. "So why was I there with you? Were we watching the pizza man?"

Dean chuckled – _of course_. "Well, you know how when people dream, they do things they normally wouldn't do?"

"Yes. You seem to have a recurrent one about being trapped in a competitive cake-eating contest."

"Right. Well, this dream was sort of like that. But before I say anything else, this stays between us, understand? Sammy doesn't want to know."

"Understood," he replied, blue eyes widening with curiosity.

"Now, don't freak out or anything, but in the dream I was having sex. With you." Dean's eyes broke from Cas' at the last sentence, before he had a chance to gauge his reaction.

Cas cocked his head to the side again, his lips set in a thin line, and he squinted at him in confusion, as Dean chanced a glance at him. With his hair messy from sleep, Dean was startled by how much he looked like the winged dick he'd met that first night in the barn. "_Why?_"

Oh boy. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Well, uh, dream-me wanted to… and so did dream-you. So we did."

Dean met Cas' eyes again, nervously licking his lips after his explanation, but the perplexed look remained. "Why would that 'freak me out'?"

Dean was caught off-guard, but tried to answer as best he could. "Well, uh … a lot of the time, people get mad if they find out a friend's been having sex dreams about them. Normally, those two things – sex and friendship – don't go together; especially when both of those friends are guys."

"As I told the congregation at that Catholic church so long ago, I am indifferent to sexual orientation."

Cas cleared his throat: "And who am I to censor your dreams? Neither dreams nor fantasies amount to harm of the other party…"

Something about his tone made the sentence sound loaded, and now it was Dean's turn to ask a question: "Cas… have you been having sexual fantasies or dreams, too? About _me_?"

"This surprises you? Although strangers so often lust after you..." He trailed off, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck; it was a human affectation he'd picked up from Dean.

"You have … and it doesn't freak you out?"

"A fantasy is something one can consciously control. If it bothered me, I would stop."

Dean swallowed his throat suddenly dry. "So … what do you fantasize about?"

Cas opened his hands, palms up and acknowledged, "We are being candid … Fantasy-you pressing up against me, and the two of us kissing. Sometimes doing more, although I don't know whether these things would even be pleasurable. Some of it, I saw the pizza man do …"

_Holy crap_.

"These thoughts came to me quite by accident," he continued. "It's the only way I've found I'm able to relieve myself, sexually." Cas seemed fairly embarrassed by this, his eyes fixed down at his hands.

Dean broke into an amused grin and asked, "You taught yourself how to masturbate?"

"I'm … not sure. When I think of these things, I undress and rub against my mattress until I am satisfied. Is that masturbating?"

Dean's blush, which had begun to recede, was back full-force. "Oh. Okay well, usually when men masturbate, they touch their penises until they get off. Like … stroking and whatnot."

"I am not familiar with that method," Cas stated. His eyes followed Cas' and he saw Cas' hands trying to hide his erection. "Could you explain it to me, Dean?"

He couldn't help but notice Cas' pleading tone, or the way he was practically shaking with self-restraint. "It's hard to explain," he answered, trying not to lick his lips as his eyes flicked back and forth from the carpet to Cas' hands. "It's more of a show than tell type thing, if you don't want anyone to hurt themselves."

"Oh… then, would you show me?"

"Cas, do you understand what you're asking?" He hoped to God he did, or this was going to get even more awkward.

"Yes … does it bother you?"

"I just don't want it to get weird. Like, what if you change your mind halfway through?"

"Dean, I – I want this." His eyes met Dean's with a familiar intensity, and he nodded briefly in response. With Dean's affirmation, Cas moved his hands away from his groin. Dean couldn't help but look at the sizeable tent in his pajama pants. Finally, he tore his eyes away.

"Okay," he responded, tugging his shirt over his head, motioning for Cas to do the same. He got underneath the covers, and held them up for Cas to join him. The two of them lying side-by-side in the full was a bit cramped, but he ignored this and continued, "Lose the pants."

As he did so, Dean tugged off his own boxer shorts. Now naked he said, "I'm going to push back the covers to show you, all right?" Cas nodded, and he inched the covers down to his knees. With the way Cas was looking over at him, Dean had trouble understanding his lustful gaze. Dean wasn't hard since he's just cum, and he was almost afraid to touch himself so soon.

But he knew Cas was looking to him for guidance, and he knew that until Cas could handle himself, he'd pester Dean. It was, he supposed, his fault. If only he hadn't been so vocal …

He blinked back from his reverie, Cas still eyeing his form. He also took a moment to eye Cas: he was surprised to find Cas was bigger than he was – and Dean was no slouch.

"Okay, watch what I do, and do it to yourself." Dean ran his right hand down, and gripped the base of his cock. He began a slow stroke upward, and then twisted his wrist slightly as his hand slid back down. He looked down, watching his fingers brush the smooth skin of his head, and he felt himself begin to harden. He looked over at Cas, who seemed to have hurt himself.

"_Stop_," Dean ordered. Cas' hand ceased. "What did you do?"

"My hand's cold and I did something wrong. It hurts."

Dean's willpower strained as he fought not to roll his eyes. "Put your hands on your stomach to warm them." Cas followed the command.

"Now grip the base loosely," he directed, illustrating on himself. "If there's a bad pressure from your touch, you're gripping too hard." Cas moved his hand, and seemed to finally get it. "Now stroke up and down," he continued, again using himself as a model. He tried (and failed) to suppress a shudder. Cas' left hand began a clumsy rhythm but eventually found something pleasurable, because he looked less scared and more, well, _pleased_. "Good," Dean acknowledged, breathless.

He couldn't help but watch Cas stroke himself. His eyes moved from his right hand, which rhythmically gripped his quivering thigh muscles, to his left hand as it slid up and down his cock. He watched the pad of his thumb smear a small bead of pre-come over his head, before he continued back down. His gaze moved upward, taking in the clenching of Cas' stomach muscles when he let out a shudder, and the way his left pec jumped as he pumped his fist. He went further up taking in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow, before they fixed on his parted lips. Small groans made their way past those lips, and suddenly, the thought of those lips was too much. He turned his gaze away, focusing on stroking himself.

He felt Cas' eyes on him again, sweeping up from his flush groin to his panting mouth. He licked his lips, and Cas moaned softly at the sight, moving his hand faster. "_Dean_," he breathed, and their eyes met. The former-angel's eyes had darkened, and eyes were wide, questioning.

Cas flicked his eyes down, lingering for a moment before moving up again. "Let me do it," he entreated, and Dean's hand stilled. He licked his own lips, releasing his cock from his grasp.

Dean just nodded, so starved for touch these past few months he wanted even an awkward handy, and suddenly Cas' hand gripped his, removing it. He bowed his head down, and before Dean knew what hit him, one of Cas' hands was holding the base of his cock, while his tongue licked a long stripe up his length. He took the head of his cock between his lips and Dean suddenly lost the ability to speak. Cas swirled his tongue, and endeavored to go a little deeper, taking the first three inches into his mouth. "Uhn, Cas, _fuck_," Dean stammered out, finally finding his voice.

Cas seemed to take his exclamation as some sort of instruction, and relaxed his jaw, drawing Dean in deeper. Dean fisted the covers and his hips made a jerky motion up. Suddenly Cas pulled back, coughing.

_Fuck. I fucked it up._

"S-sorry – you okay?"

Cas rubbed his throat with his hand, and asked hoarsely, "What was that?"

"Gag reflex - it keeps you from choking. I won't thrust again," he promised, silently begging him to continue.

_Please, please, please._

He looked wary for a second, and then dove back down. His other hand, which had been on the bed to stabilize himself, now gripped Dean's hipbone roughly. His tongue licked along the head, and he bobbed shallowly at first. Up until this point, Dean had managed to keep fairly quiet, but once Cas had swallowed down over half of his cock, a moan escaped his throat. The wet heat that engulfed him was almost too much to bear on its own, but then to look down and see those pouty lips wrapped around him made his vision blur. "Cas, I - I'm gonna cum. Get back up here…"

Dean moaned low in his throat, feeling that tongue work against the crown of his head, and it was all over. Cas pulled back somewhat, lips tight against his shaft as Dean pulsed hot and thick down his throat. Even when Cas' lips left his head, his cock still twitched, dry-heaving to the end of his orgasm. Cas sat up, and Dean saw the hard swallow of his throat. He brought a hand up to his lips, a finger swiping at the thin sheen that coated his lower lip. His tongue peeked out and licked the digit clean. Dean watched entranced, as Cas peered out at him from underneath his lashes.

"Was that okay?" he asked, voice now so hoarse that Dean's cock, painfully, tried to harden again. It had been a little awkward at first, Dean thought, but that finish …

He brought a hand up to Cas' arm, and instead replied, "You sound so fucking sexy like that."

Cas' lips quirked up into a small smile. "How'd you learn to DO that?" he asked, awed. "I mean, you didn't even know how to masturbate twenty minutes ago."

Very matter-of-factly, he answered, "The pornography I viewed seemed to focus on the role of the woman and her particular talents. Fellatio was one I witnessed multiple times." His voice seemed to return to its normal tone the longer he spoke: "For instance, if I was a woman, I'd have known perfectly well how to self-gratify." When Dean failed to respond, he continued: "The internet is a very interesting place. The pizza man has several videos."

He looked down to see Cas' cock curved hard against his stomach, leaking pre-come. His imagination was going wild at this new information and his cock ached from overstimulation. Before he lost his nerve, he closed the distance between the two, his lips crushing against Cas'. He reached down and grabbed Cas, feeling the hot skin pulse underneath his fingertips. He gasped, and his hands went to Dean's shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. He stroked for a few minutes, before he leaned against Cas, whispering in the shell of his ear, "Next time, I'll swallow _you_ down."

That was all it took: Cas moaned quietly against Dean's neck as his body convulsed, his hands now fisting the short hair at Dean's nape. He nuzzled his lips against Cas' jaw briefly, the latter's eyes squeezed tight as he sobbed out moans. After a few moments, he blinked up at Dean, who was now staring down at him fondly.

As Cas pulled back, Dean suddenly seemed to remember himself. He passed a few tissues over from his nightstand, but seemed reluctant to meet Cas' gaze. They dressed in silence, and Dean cleared his throat. "Um, so … sorry I got carried away. But, uh, now you know how."

Cas regarded him curiously. "Do you regret what just happened, Dean?"

He stammered for a second, before replying, "N-no. But I was lonely, and took advantage…"

Cas' eyebrows knit together, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is that what you really believe?"

Dean said nothing, but gave the barest nod.

"After all this time, you feel the same; like you're so unworthy of even basic human affection." Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas held up a hand. "And for the record, you didn't 'take advantage.' I may be new to humanity, but I understand lust perfectly. I had sex last week."

Dean's lips slowly quirked up into a smile, and he finally spoke: "Well I'll be damned… Looks like dream-you was right."

"What?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Hey Cas would you wanna, maybe, sleep in here tonight?"

"Yes, Dean – I'd like that."

The next morning a shirtless Castiel staggered out of Dean's room, muttering something about how he'd never get use to urinating, as he passed Sam on his way to the bathroom. A mussy-haired Sam poked his head into Dean's room to see his older brother pulling on a T-shirt. "Dean?"

He turned around, and as soon as he saw Sam's teasing grin, he put up a hand. "Before you start, Cas and I haven't had that 'talk' yet. So just keep it to yourself until we do, all right?" He sounded irritated, but his voice had a pleading tone to it.

Sam nodded slowly and replied mock-innocently, "I was just going to say _it's about_ _time._" He glanced down at his wrist-watch. "We gotta leave here in fifteen."

"Got it, Sammy. Be right out." He hadn't met Sam's gaze, but a small smirk had formed on his lips. After the salt and burn a few towns over, he and Cas would talk. If everything went according to plan, he figured he'd officially make their relationship known to the rest of the family – Sam and Kevin. And, he thought with a little less fondness, he'd have to "come out". He felt weird thinking like this, considering himself with a man seriously.

But, he thought as he laced his boots and grabbed his green duffle, this was CAS – it was different. And, he figured after the kind of life he'd had - so much of the same - he could use a little different.

*fin*

Author's note: If you enjoyed this, please check out part two of the the "Because We're Family" series: "Good Things Do Happen". Thanks for reading!


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